Belittled Intelligence
by BlueRoseRabbit
Summary: Pre-established Johnlock, collegelock-ish AU. One-shot. It's John's birthday. John buys Sherlock a present. Sherlock has a revelation and promptly abandons it, or something like that.


_Disclaimer: If I owned Sherlock BBC, John and Sherlock would've kissed by now, and John definitely wouldn't punch Sherlock when he returns._

_Pre-established Johnlock, AU-ish. Current relative ages- Sherlock is about nineteen or twenty. John is in his early twenties and he'll be going to Afghanistan as an army doctor in two years or so. Mycroft, though he does not appear in this story personally, is seven years older than Sherlock, so he's about twenty seven-ish._

_Review, please. :)_

* * *

_"Why didn't I think of that."_

_"Because you're an idiot. No, no no, don't be like that, practically everyone is."_

_-A Study In Pink_

* * *

11:04 AM, Received: Sherlock, do you know what day it is?

11:04 AM, Sent: Tuesday. -SH

11:05 AM, Received: Sherlock, please check the time.

11:05 AM, Sent: Ah. It's Wednesday. -SH

11:07 AM, Received: When was the last time you ate?

11:08 AM, Sent: I had scones at 9:42 AM yesterday. -SH

11:08 AM, Received: SHERLOCK.

11:08 AM, Sent: I'm on a case. -SH

11:09 AM, Received: Screw the case. Be at my place at 11:30.

11:09 AM, Received: Please.

11:10 AM, Received: I've got a surprise for you. You can work on your case afterwards, and tell me all about it while you're here.

11:10 AM, Sent: If you insist, I'll be there. AM or PM? -SH

11:11 AM, Received: AM, of course. But you knew that. You're just playing dumb. I'm the stupid one, remember? Use your head.

11:11 AM, Received: Oh, and wear something comfortable. Fave movie?

11:12 AM, Sent: The Hobbit or another LOTR movie isn't bad. Are t-shirt and jeans alright? -SH

11:12 AM, Received: Perfect. DON'T GO INTO THE RECESSES OF THAT CRAZY HEAD OF YOURS AND FORGET TO COME.

11:12 AM, Sent: My head is not crazy, it is genius. I'll set an alarm. See you soon, Idiot. -SH

11:13 AM, Received: See you soon, Brilliance.

* * *

Sherlock unlocked the door to John's flat using the spare key John had given him last year, stepped inside, took his shoes off, and placed them next to John's shoes by the coatrack. He hung his jacket and scarf on the coatrack, then padded into the kitchen, treading softly in his black and white striped socks. John told him to dress comfortably, but Sherlock thought that sweatpants wouldn't be acceptable, so instead he wore blue jeans and a colorful t-shirt Mycroft bought him as a joke last month. Sherlock only kept the shirt because his mummy liked it. It was purple with a picture of something called a "Grumpy Cat" (with capitalized initial letters) on the front. Sherlock wondered what John would think of it.

Sherlock put the bouquet of red roses he brought on the table quietly, trying not to alert John of his presence, who was making tea and humming softly with his back turned to Sherlock. Sherlock did not fail to notice the wrapped present and small cake on the table next to where he lay his roses.

The dark haired man quietly crept up behind John and snaked his arms around John's waist, resting his chin on the shorter man's head.

"Hello, love," John murmured as he put the teapot and two teacups on a tray. "Glad you could make it."

"Who's the present from? Not your sister, surely?" Sherlock asked in his usual baritone voice. Immediately after finishing his texting conversation with John, Sherlock had looked through the John Tower in his Mind Palace trying to figure out why John suddenly wanted to see him, and came up with the date that today was- John's birthday. He had gone to get the roses immediately afterward, carefully making sure that all of them were perfect.

John shifted a little at the mention of his sister, and Sherlock inwardly cursed himself for mentioning something that made John uncomfortable. However, John merely continued their conversation. "No, not that. It's the surprise I'm talking about. You left your shoes by the door?"

"Of course."

"Then take the tea to the drawing room, I'll be right behind. Oh, are these for me?" John wriggled out of Sherlock's arms and handed him the tea tray. He beamed at the red roses on the table.

"Yes, John, really, _think_." The corner of Sherlock's lip twitched up in a smile. "It's your birthday, of course I'd get you something. You know what red roses symbolize, yes?"

"Yes, that was nice of you. I should go find a vase- Ah, this one'll do. It's Chinese, did you know? Nice shirt, by the way. Who bought it for you?" John took down a white vase with blue designs on it from a bookshelf and placed the roses in it, watering them and then leaving it on the table. Sherlock took the tea to the drawing room and placed the tray on a coffee table, then came back to help John carry the cake and present to the drawing room.

"Obviously they're Chinese." Sherlock's smile darkened into a scowl. "Mycroft bought me the shirt." The scowl turned into a passive look of mild curiosity. "Are you going to tell me who the present is from?" He asked as they seated themselves on the couch.

John took a sip of tea before answering. "It's from me," he confessed, grinning. "Obviously."

Sherlock was befuddled. "What?"

"It's a present from me, to you." John offered as a way of explanation. He offered the present, too, which Sherlock took with some confusion.

"On birthdays, it is customary for the one whose birthday it is to be receiving presents, not giving them." Sherlock stated blankly, still not understanding, which frustrated him to no end. John, even being a not-genius, could still surprise and stump him, apparently.

John's grin only grew wider at Sherlock's lack of comprehension. "That's true, but who are we to blindly follow custom? Besides, I couldn't think of anything I wanted to buy using the money your brother so graciously deposited in my bank account two days ago without my knowledge or permission, so I bought you something. It's kind of like a present for me_ and _you. Go on, open it."

Sherlock tore the wrapping paper off the box and opened it. There was a maroon shirt inside the box made of the cottony fabric most t-shirts were made of, but the sleeves were longer than t-shirts, just how Sherlock preferred them. Sherlock pulled the shirt out of the box. On the front of it were the words "I'm with Stupid" in black, capital letters.

John smirked at Sherlock's obvious confusion. "You're always belittling my intelligence, so when I saw this shirt at the mall, I knew it would be just right for you. You're with me, and everyone should know about it so they stop flirting with you. You're mine."

Sherlock was filled with a sudden swell of emotions he didn't quite know what to do with. _I'm with John, and John's proud. He's not as upset about showing that he's gay like he had been years ago now that he's with me. John loves me and gets jealous when others flirt with me. I'm John's. John thinks he's stupid._

John thinks he's stupid.

Sherlock suddenly felt a little guilty about that. How many times had John told him it was not nice to call the NSY stupid when Sherlock did so, only for Sherlock to turn around later and tell him the same? Stupid for John was a term of affection, while for the NSY it was an insult, in Sherlock's mind. Apparently it had become the same in John's mind. Was that bad?

_No. If he didn't like it, he would've said something by now, and he wouldn't have gotten me this._

Sherlock realized that John was waiting for him to react. He grinned. "I love it," he proclaimed, and he took off his shirt and put on this new one. John looked pleased. The Grumpy Cat shirt and the box lay discarded on the floor.

"Now everyone knows you're _my _genius," John said proudly.

"And you're my idiot." Sherlock replied, leaning in and giving John a kiss on the cheek. John smiled and cut a slice of cake (where did that knife come from?), put it on a plate, and handed it to Sherlock.

"Eat." John said firmly. "You really need to eat more. You can't just disregard meals like you normally do, Sherlock, it's not healthy."

John cut himself his own slice of cake while Sherlock spoke. "I can and I will. I've lived this long like that, haven't I?"

John grumbled to himself about bloody gits and their stupid genius minds that overlooked health and Sherlock smirked. The cake was really good, and Sherlock hadn't even realized he was hungry. He ate quickly and John cut him another slice. "You're very good at baking when you set your mind on it and don't read medical texts while things are cooking," Sherlock commented.

This initiated a surprised "thanks" from John, and the two finished their slices of the delicious pastry. John took the plates and the remaining cake away to the kitchen.

"Now, how about that movie? Which one did you pick?" Sherlock asked when John had returned.

"The Hobbit, since it's your favorite. I don't know why you like it so much." John got up to put the DVD in the player and turn on the TV.

"Bilbo Baggins reminds me of you," Sherlock responded teasingly. John scoffed, but he was smiling. He came back and sat down, Sherlock moving closer to snuggle in John's warm jumper. The two fell asleep on the couch about halfway into the movie, a consulting detective and his doctor, a doctor and his consulting detective.

A highly intelligent man and a slightly less intelligent one, happy as can be.


End file.
